


Her Eyes

by jusrecht



Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:58:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Cho Kyuhyun, from the eye of a student.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Oxford Event, particularly [this picture](https://twitter.com/woonxian/status/399598104120274944/photo/1), and [this Twitter convo with @maaakiki](https://twitter.com/maaakiki/status/399882831272230912)

  
It starts with simple admiration from her part.  
  
And that is not without reason. Cho Kyuhyun is a genius in Mathematics and the youngest professor in the university. Students compete for a spot in his advanced class and those lucky enough to earn a place sit enraptured behind their desks as his deep, enthralling voice weave explanations on the infinite wonder of numbers.  
  
Then she starts noticing other things about him.  
  
The small upward curve of his lips when a student raises a hand and presents a perfect answer to the problem he has laid out. The palpable excitement brightening his eyes as he delves into the principles of Occam’s Razor. The awkward, almost flustered look he gains on his face when a too-forward student tries to gain his attention in a decidedly inappropriate manner. The wave of his elegant fingers as he tells her to sit in his office before proceeding to answer every single one of her questions. He loves numbers—and through them, she learns to love him.  
  
And so she watches him. She watches him in class, from her seat in the third-row bench, away from the other students. She watches him as he crosses the courtyard to the department building, head bent and eyes fixed on a sheaf of papers in his hand. She watches him when he sits on the podium during the grand lecture series, handsome in a grey suit and talking to Professor Choi from Political Science.  
  
Sometimes she tells herself that she simply admires him. Sometimes it isn’t that simple. She is not one of those strikingly beautiful girls, but she is smart. She knows that she holds his interest in the academic field—but every now and then there will be moments, just small, fleeting moments, when he looks at her after one of her particularly brilliant solutions—and she thinks, _maybe_.  
  
And so the hope grows. And grows. And grows. Until one night.  
  
It is a cold night, but she sits on one of the cold wooden benches in the courtyard, working on her hypothesis for the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture as an excuse. She knows that he always passes this way when he goes home. She will approach him, and then maybe ask him about the L-function…  
  
“...rejected without further consideration just because the rules say it doesn’t work that way.” It’s the voice of her professor, steadily growing louder. “Do you have any idea how many smart kids out there who have neither the means nor money for university education?”  
  
“I do, actually,” another voice answers. Surprised and panicked, she quickly jumps to her feet and hides behind the bench, but not before catching a glimpse of the other man and recognising him as Professor Choi.  
  
“My point is if we can do something–”  
  
The rest of his words disappear into a muffled sound. Her hand flies to her mouth as she watches, heart thudding painfully in her chest, the kiss that silences her professor.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Professor Choi says seconds later, his smile unmistakeable even in the dim lighting, “but you looked so serious and passionate and I just couldn’t help it—and _no_ , believe me, I’m not taking this issue lightly. I do know how important it is for you and I care about it too, so let’s continue this talk in my apartment.”  
  
“You have other motives for bringing me to your place,” Professor Cho accuses, displeasure thick in his voice. “If anyone sees–”  
  
“Let them,” Professor Choi says, and then leans down to kiss him again. It’s a soft, gentle kiss; the kind, she realised, shared between lovers who are very much in love with each other.  
  
“You’re incorrigible,” her professor admonishes, but he is smiling now—smiling with his eyes, lips, voice—with everything he is.  
  
Professor Choi laughs and murmurs something in his ear. She waits until they have passed, hand in hand, and then gathers her books and returns to her room.  
  
She tells herself that it isn’t exactly a broken heart, but she cries anyway.  
  
  
 ** _End_**  
  
  
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